Varia Refugees
by bunyipbabe
Summary: The Varia have destroyed their base through a mix off knives, fists, iron kneecaps, umbrellas and XANXUS. Now they have nowhere to go... except to Tsuna? Pairing: XS! Contains M-Rated Chapters!
1. The Ruins

Varia Refugees

A.N./ Okay, so those of you who don't know how my stories work, here's a heads-up for you.

This will be yaoi. Y-A-O-I. Don't know what it means, go google it. Don't like what you find, don't read this. I'll try and upload chapters in doubles, so if there's an M-Rater (which will be CLEARLY marked so as not to impurify any sweet little child's eyes) you can always read the other chappie. The M-Rated Chapters will be JUST the smut scenes, no actual story line, so there shouldn't be too much of a break between… I hope.

Disclaimer: Manga belongs to Akira Amano, who is my hero (or is it heroine? I have a weird feeling she's female, but Akira's a dudes name, right? Aaah, I don't know. Tell me if you know the answer!).

Rating: T for Squalo's potty-mouth, but with a couple of M-Rated chapters.

Pairing: XS! Duh, this is my number 1 favourite pairing at the moment. Seriously, guys, there needs to be more of this pairing! Get writing! There will also probs be some mentions of 8059, D18, and BelFran, but they won't be the focus. (And if you want a good XS writer, check out Froggyfran! She is amazing!)

All of these fictions will be set in the Canon world, so no random AUs (other than the ten-years-in-the-future, obviously) and definitely not too many OCs.

I've decided to make this a multi-chapter story, although it will be made up of both fluffy and smutty one-and-two-and-three-and-four (and-five-and-six-and-maybe-more) shots of whatever scenario just happens to pop into my head, but all based on the same storyline (does that make as little sense to you as it does to me?).

So, I'll apologise beforehand for taking so long on the update count. I'm an awful time keeper, am never punctual, and am far too lazy to update as much as most writers. Sorrysorrysorry.

Summary (of this chapter): (ten years in the future) Varia's HQ is destroyed and our favourite severely dysfunctional family is forced to camp out at Tsuna's underground fortress! What chaos will ensure, especially when the kids realise that the Wrath and the Pride of Vongola's relationship goes a little but further than just Boss and Subordinate…

(I can't really remember what the Varia base looked like… so if my descriptions a bit off, I apologise for that as well. I'm making it up off the top of my head, here…)

Anyway, please read, review, and enjoy the story!

CHAPTER RATING: T. For Squalo's mouth and some mentions of smex.

Squalo stood in the wreckage of the Varia base he had come to call home over the past however-many-years it had been, and stared.

He'd only been away- what? Two days? A simple enough mission, all in all- and already the large, gothic castle-esque mansion had been shorn to the ground like a giant had taken a vengeful razor to it.

How typical was that? If the sword hadn't been fastened to his artificial hand with a mixture of bandages and god-knows what, it would've dropped to the floor in sheer anger.

Then it would've been picked up, and shoved through the chest of the nearest Varia, which luckily happened to be that bratty ass-crack-smirk of a Prince who was sitting happily on what looked like the remains of the large oak door, flicking his weird knives repeatedly into the back of the frog-headed boy beside him. Fran was, as always, complaining monotonously about getting blood on his clothes.

Generally, killing the little prick would be as good a fantasy, and indeed it was enough to make a smile curve the shark's lips.

But then reality hit with a right hook strong enough to send his expression plummeting down into the depths of broiling rage again, as he surveyed the devastating scene laid out chaotically before him.

Two days.

Two days, that's all it had been. Two-fucking-days, and the bastards had gone and trashed their base like it was their sole sworn duty to Jesus-fucking-Christ.

Squalo felt the urge to scream and kill something return (had it ever left?). This was why he didn't often take solo missions- as Fran had once remarked in that toneless, deadpan voice of his, the long-haired idiotic loudmouth shark of a captain was the often the only thing stopping the Varia from killing each other in their sleep.

Sure, he was just as hot-blooded and wily as the rest of the family, if not more so, but he was also the only one who was allowed to insult the Boss and get away with nothing more than a glass of red wine to the head, rather than a bullet to the brain. He was the only one who could take all of Xanxus' crap about food, drink, anything and everything, and still come up stubbornly swinging (or, at least, swearing vehemently). He was definitely the only one with a voice loud enough to break up any of his idiotic comrades from a scuffle, and, to top it all off, he was the only one who had truly resigned himself to a fate of dying at the side of (or because of) their volcanic Boss.

But all this destruction… whatever battle had gone on here, it must've been loud enough to wake the dead. And, judging by the singed black marks that crawled uglily (A.N./ Not a word? I don't care!) across every given surface that remained intact, Xanxus had been as involved as the rest of them.

It had obviously been one hell of a fight- and looking out across the derelict ruins, Squalo was pretty damn tempted to finish it.

Smoke curled up in long serpent's tongues from the ashes of the roof timbers, once proudly mounted at the head of the house but now scattered forlornly across the lawn. A turret had slumped from its moorings and now lay, collapsed on its side, atop the mound of rubble that had at one time constituted for a wall. Rubble and debris littered the magnificent gardens; Lussuria's beloved (and flamboyantly gay) hot pink roses crushed and lost beneath a mountain of crumbled brick and stone.

The man himself knelt beside the buried flowers, weird floppy mohican-thing of hair drooping mournfully across his tearful face. He was clinging onto Levi's arm with a death-grip that would put the Gola Mosca to shame, whilst Levi looked like he would rather be just about anywhere else on the planet. The big man was pointedly glaring away at some spot on the horizon over Squalo's shoulder- that or at the Boss- his multiple facial piercings glittering in the late afternoon sun.

Xanxus himself sat a few paces behind Squalo, guns innocently back in the holsters at his hips. Heck, if it hadn't been for the wide scorching of the grounds and the numerous patches of fried grass, Squalo would never have believed they'd left the man's side.

Or maybe not. He knew the Boss' volatile nature all too well.

The dark haired, deeply tanned man had somehow salvaged his throne-like chair from the wreckage and was currently sprawled across it in his usual lazy pose, looking contented as a cat (albeit a scarred and angsty one) and seemingly unconcerned by his hazardous surroundings.

He'd even dug out a crappy little old table, just so he could lounge fully with his feet up and give Squalo the full force of his sadistic smirk that just _screamed _'you know who'll be cleaning up this mess, don't you? Mwahahaha.'

Although of course, Xanxus, scary mafia boss extraordinaire, would never lower himself to such a corny laugh like that.

His laugh was _way _more terrifying than that, and usually meant that someone would die- and soon.

It was tempting to turn around in a lithe twist of compressed energy and whirling silver hair and smack his steel fist into his bosses face as hard as he possibly could, and it was probably what Xanxus was expecting. Even at a time like this, he could never resist the urge to show his pet shark who was boss.

But, surprisingly to those that knew him, ten years had done more than to grow out the swordsman's hair and increase his aesthetic appeal. The shark had done the one thing thought impossible for a fight-crazy maniac, and matured. Just a little bit- he was still a long way off being the cool, calm and collected embodiment of rain, still a long way off Yamamoto's ability to laugh and smooth over the sharpest of arguments like butter. But it was enough, and Superbi Squalo, second in command of the Vongola's remote assassin squad Varia, would not let that batshit crazy piece of motherfuck have the pleasure of pounding him to the ground again using his fists (or other means…) if it was the last thing he did.

So, instead of doing the most natural thing for any angry assassin, and quietly disposing of the one responsible for this steaming huge pile of shite, Squalo did the most natural thing for any angry Squalo and yelled as loudly as his impressive lung capacity would allow.

"VOOOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIII! WHAT THE FUUUUUUCK?"

The smart ones, namely Bel and Fran, had seen it coming a mile off and quickly covered their ears, (Bel even dropping a handful of his precious knives in a vain attempt to protect his hearing!) although sadly for them, that did little do shield them from the sheer barrage of sound one small, skinny silver-haired Italian capo mafioso could somehow create. The less bright ones, Lussuria and Levi, were so shocked at the sudden screech that Levi actually face-planted, neatly in the centre of the flowerbed-turned-rubble-heap that had once been Lussuria's garden. Said hysterical homosexual gave an answering shriek of dismay, and tugged the muscle-bound assassin off the remains of his roses before kneeing him in the groin with his metal kneecap.

Levi dropped like a stone; eyes rolling back into his head and eyebrows puckering up like a cat's backside.

Squalo ignored them, turning back to face his boss, all energy seemingly gone as he slumped down onto the table, besides Xanxus' booted feet. The man himself hadn't seemed to be effected by Squalo's yell, although that was only natural. After nigh on twenty years of listening to the smaller man scream, it had become almost background noise- although he still used it as an excuse to punish him, whenever he could. After all, Squalo yielded to insults and hard-as-rock fists as easily as he did to everything else Xanxus cared to deal out to him, including the favourite wineglass-to-the-head, the constant hair abuse, and the violent sex: with a noisy complaint and a smattering of colour across his paper-white face. Pink for embarrassment. Red for anger- or for lust.

Xanxus made it his business to see that blush as often as possible.

"-do?" a quiet voice broke Xanxus from his reverie, and he realised that Squalo was talking softly, in a voice only he could hear. Strange, he thought, for the young man to show such unnatural self-restraint. After all, 'Squalo' and 'Quiet' were two words one would not normally put together in any sentence. But Squalo had seemed less inclined to fly into an angry rage with no warning as of late- something Xanxus wasn't quite sure if he was glad about or otherwise.

"Repeat that, scum." He ordered, leaning his strong chin onto one big, tanned hand as he watched the bony bumps of Squalo's spine tauten, tight to the back of his well-fit uniform yet so much clearer beneath his own scarred fingers, and the smooth curve of his slumped shoulders tense at his voice. Maturity suited the shark, realised Xanxus in a flash. He'd always felt an obvious attraction to the skinny man, (the same one that so inexplicably drew in that brat Yamamoto his shark had been getting far too close to recently as well as that idiot Cavallone Boss) although Xanxus could pride himself on being the only one who'd ever given Squalo a proper fuck. Most people would have considered, given Dino's stunning good looks and Yamamoto's almost deceivingly friendly nature, that indeed the long-haired shark _had _let at least one of the two jump him, but to Xanxus the thought was… well, unthinkable. Squalo would never lower himself into the bed of another man, except that of his own boss. He lived for Xanxus. He existed for Xanxus. And he allowed himself to be screwed senseless by Xanxus, whenever the bigger man desired.

After all, wasn't that what loyalty- the pure, unswerving, till-death-do-us-part loyalty that Squalo had always sported for the mafia Prince- was all about, when it came down to it?

Maybe not everywhere, but in the Varia world, that sort of loyalty was what counted.

But right now, Squalo had turned to face him, long tendrils of fine silver hair floating around his sharp face like an ungodly halo of snow, and Xanxus was happy to see that the familiar angry expression on his faithful Rain Guardian's face still stood proud. His subordinate's steely, pale eyes, colourless as his hair, as his skin, as the rain itself, glared obstinately into his own crimson orbs like twin lasers; a look that Xanxus was happy to return with the smirk still scrawled rudely across his cheeks.

"Aren't you meant to pose that as a question? As in: I'm sorry, Squalo, I wasn't listening, would you care to repeat that last sentence?"

"It was an order, not a question. So do it... Trash."

Squalo rolled his eyes at the 'trash', but, as ever, did Xanxus' bidding. What else could he do in front of this man?

"As I said before, now what do we do? Where can we go? You guys have helpfully wrecked our entire base beyond repair- or at least, it's gonna be out of commission for the next few months or so. We have nowhere else to camp out!"

Xanxus shrugged lazily, eyes returning to the little whiskey glass he was spinning between his fingers, only a mixture of centrifugal force and pure luck keeping the strong-scented clear liquid where it belonged rather than all down his front.

"Find an allied family. Someone with lots of space."

Squalo shook his head to that, pushing thin arms out on the table and leaning back slightly, his long hair curling into soft gnarls on the wood behind him.

"No. We don't exactly have friends in the allied families- if we go to them, we'll probably start up a war. Vongola'll be in deep crap-" Xanxus opened his mouth. "-and no, don't just say 'fuck the Vongola'. With the Shimon acting up, I don't think we'll be a stand-alone company of remote squaddie assassins much longer. Your old man will probably shove us right back in the middle of the game unless we're careful, so if the Vongola falls, we'll probably fall as well."

Xanxus shut it, slightly surprised and more than a little angry, mostly for the 'your old man' shit. Even Squalo the bigmouth knew better than to cut him off, especially if it involved making some remark about the man who had taken him in. Although the dumb shark-trash _had _guessed pretty accurately what he had been going to say.

The only difference being, Xanxus' version had contained rather more expletives and rude descriptions of a certain brat who had taken his rightful place as Vongola's Tenth.

Then an idea hit him with such force his fingers suddenly clenched the glass tight, and it shattered into his palm, sprinkling both him and Squalo with tiny shards of light.

He barely noticed the thin beads of blood sliding down his hands from the numerous tiny cuts the explosion had caused, or the sharp wasp's sting from the whiskey that dripped into them, and a huge, shit-eating grin suddenly spread across his face from ear to ear.

It was perfect. The perfect plan.

With this, he could have his family a temporary home, _and _get some revenge on that little drip Tsuna without physically destroying him… well, maybe not destroying too _much _of him to get him in trouble with the ninth.

It. Was. Brilliant.

And what was best of all, Tsuna, that snivelling little idiot who only wanted to make friends with everybody, would be too hopeful of Xanxus' redemption (and terrified of his guns) to say no. He would get what was coming to him, that was for sure…

Xanxus wiped the blood on his trousers and stood, towering over Superbi beside him, and clapped his hands a twice, a signal for all the Varia to listen.

Bel looked up from his task of turning Fran into a human pincushion. Fran pulled knives out of his legs and shuffled as far away from the ripper prince as he could get. Lussuria dropped Levi's limp body to the ground and stood to attention, which he still somehow managed to make look blindingly gay. Maybe it was the military pose coupled with pink hair and a feather boa? Levi himself lay on the floor and moaned, but if moans could be understood, this one would've said, in Levi's usual whinge, "All present and correct, Bossu!"

Xanxus surveyed his team of crack assassins with a sneer. All present and correct indeed, but sadly, most mentally defective.

Next to him, Squalo couldn't help but crack a smile as he rose to his feet at the boss' right hand side. The boss had a plan, and it was one good enough to make him spill drops of precious liquor.

This was gonna be good.

Xanxus stood proudly before the Varia, one foot raised on the table before him, one hand resting on the gun hilt at his side, the other shielding his dark eyes from the sun, pheasant feathers and raccoon tail tickling a scarred cheek as he spoke.

"Alright! We move out at 1600 hours! Gather your possessions-" he looked around the wrecked compound "-what you can find of them, and rendezvous at the private jet!"

"Where're we going, boss?" Asked Fran uninterestedly, still plucking knives from his head and snapping them neatly in half before throwing them back to a fuming Bel. Always ask the sensible questions.

Xanxus smirked, eyes shadowed evilly from the midday blaze. Squalo bit his lip, trying to ignore the pale blush spreading across his cheeks.

It wasn't _his _fault his boss was such a fucking bishounen, after all.

Xanxus raised his fist, and slammed it roughly into the half-smashed wall besides him. The wall buckled like it was made of paper, not solid stone, and chips of granite peppered the ground around his feet, before with a long drawn out grown of protest, it crumbled into dust, billowing up into a thick shroud around the intimidating Mafioso Don.

"We're going to Sawada's base," he proclaimed loudly.

And as usual, although there were many crossed looks and raised eyebrows, no one, not even Squalo, dared argue.

Xanxus leapt nimbly off the table, crushing splintered wood and glass underfoot, guns rattling in their holsters and ordered a pissed off shark to find his belongings as well as the trash's own with a wide grin. Everything was running smoothly, and they'd be in Japan by the morrow morning!

Indeed, life was definitely looking up- for the Varia. The same couldn't be said for poor Tsuna however.

He knew something was awfully, horribly wrong when the envelope fell heavily through his doorflap the next day. It only got worse when he saw the Varia's blood-red seal glaring up at him, imposed over the Vongola one in hot wax and the words 'Sawada Tsunayoshi, Vongola Tenth (for now)' inscribed on the front in a blockish hand.

What had happened so terrible that Xanxus, _the_ _XANXUS_, had contacted him? Had nono been killed? Captured? Had the Vongola fallen overnight to the Shimon? Was Xanxus – god forbid – the only Mafioso on his side remaining?

Tsuna broke the seal with trembling fingers and a trembling heart, nibbling on one lip with a curious Reborn poking his oversized head across his shoulder.

Tsuna's eyes widened a little as they scanned the letter, little more than a short note on a scrap of paper tucked carefully into an expensive envelope.

This was bad.

This was horrendous.

This was worse than he ever could've imagined…

Tsuna let out a wail of despair that had Gokudera, Yamamoto and the other guardians running to his side in seconds, expecting to find their Bossu lying twitching in a pool of his own blood in the HQ's hallway.

So they were understandably shocked to see a perfectly healthy and bloodless Tsuna sitting in the middle of the floor, a piece of paper clutched loosely in one paled hand.

"Boss?" Gokudera was the first to approach, of course, Yamamoto hard on his heels. "What's wrong?"

Tsuna nearly cried. Why was this happening to him? Why was life torturing him like this? But his Guardian had asked a question, and he deserved an answer.

"The Varia are coming to stay!"

A.N./ Okay, so how is it? Give me some feedback people! It shall be loved and cherished! Con-crit shall be welcomed and listened to! Flames will be used to keep my house warm! Just hit the button guys, and tell me what you think!


	2. The Airplane

The Airport

A.N./ Well, I've certainly got this one up faster than normal! I'll try and get as many chapters uploaded as I can in the time remaining before term starts again and I get swamped in coursework and GCS-bloody-Es. So if barely anything happens next year, blame my studies. Nah, I'll still try to upload as much as possible… I can make time! (crosses fingers and feverishly hopes that the time fairies are listening).

Also, I've kinda mucked up the times a bit in the first segment. Sorrysorrysorry! Cross out mentions of 'Shimon' and replace them with 'Byakuran'. This is set TYL, in the future, so Byakuran is the current bad-guy and the Vongola are living in the underground bunker. Just FYI. But there won't be too many fight scenes because I'm crap at writing them. More lots of fun and a bit of smut in-between the fights!

Enough from me now, on with the story!

/

CHAPTER RATING: T. For some swearing and a few brief smutty mentions.

It was only a smattering of minutes past four when Squalo finally dragged his heavy carcass and all of Xanxus' possessions that he could dig out from beneath mounds of rubble up the ramp and on to the waiting plane, but already Xanxus was growling indecipherable expletives under his breath and giving him the patented evil death glare that could give most people heart attacks after a mere few seconds of having it burn into their skin.

Thankfully for him, Squalo was not most people.

He'd grown up with the glare, and brushed it off like a cobweb, throwing down the two rucksacks full of crap at his bastard Boss' feet- one big over-the-shoulder-bag containing most of Xanxus' liquor that wasn't smashed to pieces in the ruins (he figured that was all the alcoholic would want) and one smaller one for himself- with a wide toothy scowl that put his namesake shark to shame.

"Happy?"

Xanxus all but purred, looking every bit the liger that was currently tucked away in the innermost pocket of his jacket, secured in its deceptively tiny box that only its master could open.

"Very," he answered, with what could almost be classed as a smile. Albeit a malicious and hungry one. _Dear God don't let him start up the whole meat-crisis again on the flight…_

Squalo looked around as the thought struck him, suddenly nervous, and caught sight of a few containers full of what he could only presume was food, piled in one corner of the large transport, and felt his heartbeat slow slightly. It was bad enough being caught with an angry Xanxus in the Varia base gardens. It would be death in a sealed enclosed area flying ten thousand feet up in the air crammed full of assassins… Just one blast of those hellish guns and they would all be dining with the devil for the rest of eternity.

Squalo felt a small smile cross his face.

Dining with the devil? He did that every night.

Or at least, whenever Xanxus was in a good enough (and rare enough) mood to let the younger man grace him with his presence whilst he ate.

Xanxus, seeming to sense his thoughtfulness, snorted loudly and dragged him over to one of the seats where the other Varia members (with the exception of Lussuria who was flying, god forbid,) had currently parked, and pushed him down into it.

"Strap up, trash. Now you've finally showed your sorry face, we're leaving. We want to get to the brat's base as soon as we can."

"It's your own fault I'm late! Next time get your own stuff," grumbled Squalo but his heart wasn't in it and he quickly followed Xanxus' orders, yanking the thick black belt around his thin torso and popping it into place as his Boss took the seat beside him, kicking a grovelling Levi out the way as he went.

"Go to the back, trash. I'm sitting here!"

Levi, practically crying from the abuse, nodded gloomily and snivelled his way to the back of the jet, his own rucksack dragging on the ground as he went. Bel stuck a knife in his back as he passed with a soft _schnik, _but the dejected man didn't notice.

"That's just cruel, sempai," intoned Fran boredly, staring out the porthole-shaped window on Bel's other side. Squalo gave a near echo of this opinion back to Xanxus, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to the drooping assassin who was now slumped alone on the back row of double seats, picking the petals of what looked like a daisy. (A.N./ am I going a bit overboard here? Levi's not that bad really… I think.)

"That's just pitiful, bossu."

Xanxus tilted his chair back until it was crushing Fran's bony little knees (Fran hastily tucked up his legs onto the chair, but didn't dare mention it) and yawned.

"He kills people. He buys me booze. I don't ask for much else in a subordinate."

Squalo did the same, but quickly yanked his chair forwards again when he felt the cool blade of a weirdly curved knife nick into his neck, and Bel's ominous 'Shishishishi' from behind him.

Freak.

"He also wants to dry-hump your leg," he pointed out, and Xanxus let out a reluctant grunted laugh, that seemed just as surprised about as Squalo was. Generally Xanxus only laughed when he was about to burn off someone's face, that or cause his second-in-command some serious bodily injury. But, the long-haired swordsman reckoned rationally- when you're going to be stuck on a plane next to someone for the next twelve-or-so hours, you learn to laugh at their jokes fast.

That or throw them out a window.

Seeing as Xanxus was almost definitely a man for the latter, Squalo decided it might be in his best interests to keep his mouth shut (most definitely a hard task for a man such as himself) and not to push his luck on the funny front.

Xanxus seemed to approve, and when no more words came forth from his angelshark besides him, he rested his head back on the rest and let his eyes drift shut.

Generally he wouldn't sleep in such close proximity to Bel's knives- not because he couldn't beat the brat prince or his pet frog in a fight, definitely not, but because he wouldn't put it past the freaky jack-o-lantern kid not to stick a knife in his exposed throat before he could pull out his guns. But with Squalo at his side and alert as ever, he supposed he was pretty much as safe as a man with his reputation, sitting in a plane full of insane assassins, could ever hope to get.

After all, dumb shark would have his sword at the ready as always- and Xanxus would be able to count how many times Bel had attempted to take his life (and thus how much his paycheck got cut for the next month) by how many fingers the ripper-boy had lost to his pet swordsman's blade.

And so, Xanxus the great, the terrifying, the carnivorous, bloodthirsty, impulsive spoilt nutter of a mafia boss, let himself drift away into unconsciousness, at peace with his family around him.

/

_It was all Bel's idea anyway, _thought Squalo crossly as he walked painfully off the plane twelve hours later, keeping his head up despite the jeers of the Varia around him and trying to act like he really couldn't care less. Lies, of course. He felt like he'd been fed to a hungry monster with very sharp teeth and regurgitated again- and having had this happen to him one time too many before, this wasn't exactly the most welcome of pains to his body.

Yes, _that _was one fight he would've loved to forget. Losing to that dumb sword-brat who he'd later taken on as his apprentice, and fed to a shark for breakfast. Delightful, but all in a days work for a Varia captain.

_It was Bel's fault! Why am I the only one who got beaten up? It was just a little marker pen, anyway! He washed it off in minutes… well, minutes after we returned to the airport… which was a few hours since I did it…_

Bruises were already knitting together the muscles of his face into a painful mask, and his fists were clenched so hard blood was clotting quickly under the nails. And, to top it all off, moving casually beside him in the usual long strides as if he hadn't a care in the world was the one responsible.

Xanxus walked smoothly across the tarmac of the Vongola airfield they had radioed earlier to let them know of their arrival, brushing off the chittering marshals trying to talk to him and arrange where his plane was to be kept for the duration of his stay off with a few quick rounds of gunfire, which soon scattered the idiots.

Talking to him without permission? They really should've known better anyway. He'd fish up some replacements if the old man made too much of a fuss, maybe even hire a few mum hands to clean up the mess he was created afterwards, if he was in a particularly good mood. He had somewhere to be, and if the scum who insisted on stowing his plane away absolutely _had _to bug someone, they could bloody well go bug Squalo, couldn't they?

The young Varia Don felt his gaze stray to his side at this thought, to the skinny silverette with the black eye and bleeding lip struggling to keep pace with him across the wide expanse of hard ground. Squalo's eyes were fixed mutinously on the floor, and his whole posture was wound so tight he looked like he would snap on every step.

Xanxus was tempted to poke him, just to see if the grumpy shark would bite his finger and earn himself another beating.

Well.

Squalo had no one to blame but himself on this matter, anyway. Even if it had been, as Squalo had repeatedly screamed whilst Xanxus was punching his pretty face in, the idea of a certain blonde prince who insisted on wearing a fucking _tiara _of all things despite being part of the most bad-ass group of Mafioso/assassins to ever walk on this motherfucking earth, it had still been the idiot shark's hand that had been holding the marker pen when Xanxus had felt the soft whisper of it across his cheek bone and opened his eyes.

Then, once he'd realised what had been done to him whilst he slept and why, when he got up to go to the toilet to scrub off whatever had been written across his tanned forehead ('Xanxus' with the X's crossed clearly out and a toothbrush 'tasche that put Hitler to shame), Lussuria in the pilot's seat caught a glimpse of him and nearly fell off into the control panel with laughter thus making the plane tilt alarmingly to one side, it'd all been over in rather a short few minutes.

Gratifying ones for Xanxus.

Hilarious ones for the rest of the Varia, except Lussuria who was trying desperately to get the stalling jet back under control despite his giggles.

And rather excrutiatingly painful ones for a certain long-haired, loud-mouthed shark.

"Come ooooon!" sang Lussuria shrilly from the front of the tiny airport, cooing and fluffing his boa at the attractive cabbie Sharkie had organised for them before they left. The airport was a minute complex basically consisting of a simple hanger, slung low between two hills like an angry corrugated iron worm, and a small tower perched precariously on the edge of the single runway, but belonged to the Vongola, and, anyway, with the Millelfiore acting up, Xanxus didn't really want to make a flashy entrance.

Scratch that: personally, he was all for running right up and knocking on Byakuran's front door, then blasting the poncy, marshmallow-addicted scum's white head from his shoulders before he could get a smarmy word in edgeways. But sadly, the rest of the Varia disagreed, instead preferring to lay low as they crept undercover to Tsuna's bunker, so that the kid Don wouldn't have the whole of the rival family banging on his door after them.

However sensible this plan may have been, it didn't stick well with Xaxnus- another reason why he had reacted so violently to Squalo's marker attack. He wasn't exactly the sneakabout sort of guy, he preferred to jump roaring into the open, guns ablaze and shooting down anything that came within a mile of him. He could leave the pussy silent assassination jobs to the Angelshark or the Ripper Prince- although how Squalo kept his mouth shut for the duration of them he'd never find out. That guy was always yipping on about something or other, normally as loud as he could, as if the little old lady at the end of the street actually wanted to know whatever the crap he was talking about. Xanxus thought it was a miracle how he'd managed to become an assassin in the first place with vocal chords like that: the man was like a TV with a broken volume control!

And _that _was something that didn't change in the bedroom…

Xanxus smirked at the thought, reaching the car (a long, sleek SUV) in purposefully lengthy steps, just to see the smaller Italian stumble along with limbs no doubt creaking from his previous ordeal, and surveyed the vehicle parked before him with a look of unveiled disdain. Normally he'd have demanded a limo, black sheen on the windows, chrome hub-caps, the lot, but with everyone being so secretive towards the current Millelfiore crisis, he supposed that this was the next best thing.

Even if it _was_ severely lacking in the 'I have a dead body in the boot' look.

At least it had heavily tinted windows all around, even if, peering in the front, he could see a pair of fluffy pink die rattling about on a string.

It would have to do.

It was still a bit of a shock though, when he slammed open the back door and found that, thanks to Levi's rather shoddy packing skills, only three seats remained free to sit on.

Xanxus frowned, scars crinkling.

Behind him, a gyrating Lussuria flicked the hair (now neon green) out of his sunglassed eyes and gave the most unmanly giggle known to mafia-kind.

"Everyone choose your seat buddies!" He squealed, and gave a twirl, long ends of the boa flicking out behind him like wings.

Xanxus wrinkled his nose at the thought of having to share seats with one of his stupid subordinates, and was just considering forcing three to share so he could have one to himself (he'd wasted enough time already washing the bloody magic-fucking-markers off his face, and didn't want to make Levi unpack and repack now. Besides that, the big muscle-man would bitch about it for the rest of his stay if he did, and despite Squalo's annoyed (yet nevertheless blissful on his ears) silence, Xanxus was already starting to grow a headache) when he caught the worried look spreading across his shark's face.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Move it, trash," he muttered, pushing the still twirling Lussuria firmly out of the way and climbing into the spare front seat, dragging his swordsman reluctantly behind him. "You're with me."

Squalo looked like he'd rather risk Bel's knives or Lussuria's wandering hands, but of course by the time he'd managed to wriggle his arm out of the Boss' strong grip, the door was shut and he was trapped, awkwardly standing hunched in the footwell as Xanxus sat down on the chair beneath him, their faces far to close for comfort and...

…beneath him.

Squalo bit his lip.

Shit.

Xanxus let out an aggravated sigh and rolled red eyes widely around their sockets, before wrapping his tanned arms around his subordinate's slim waist and pulling him roughly down on top of him so he was kneeling on the soft leather of the seat with slender thighs split around his hips and shocked face barely a centimetre apart from his own.

Silver hair drifted lightly over Squalo's shoulder onto Xanxus' cheek, painting a trail of pure white across the sun-goldened brown of his cheekbone. He blew it off, enjoying the pure mixture of horror and anger at their situation spreading quickly across the shark's furious red cheeks as the soft exhalation in such close quarters briefly puffed his fringe back from his face.

"Hey," he said, coolly, dark and deadly crimson eyes hot with fire and staring into the twin widened colourless grey pools opposite, one rimmed with a delicate dark circle where Xanxus' fist had met skin and swollen half-shut. It was a rather good look for him, Xanxus found, but he still preferred him better when the albino flesh was unmarred, and made a mental note not to punch him in the face anymore.

Or at least, not when a shot glass to the head would do the job just as well…

Squalo didn't say anything, partly because his lips (_so pale and smooth, just like the rest of him _thought Xanxus unwillingly) were still opening and closing angrily, but mostly because the larger man had flattened out his palm against his back and pulled him suddenly against him, chest flush to his, and covered his mouth with his own in a rough, bruising kiss.

Beside them, the driver looked steadfastly out of his window, determined to ignore the scene working it's way out next to him. Generally, as they were important visitors, he would've discreetly snapped a picture on the mobile he kept with him specifically for this purpose (it's amazing what people get up to in cars, and drivers become almost like shadows) and selling it on the Internet to the highest bidder.

However, the fact that there was no mistaking the feel of a cold gun barrel pressed tight into the crook of his neck made the decision for him, and he decided that this was one secret love scene he wouldn't make a publicity. For the sake of the customer's privacy, of course.

/

Outside the car, Bel and Fran were still arguing about who got to go on top or bottom (innuendo completely unintended, of course). Bel insisted that since Fran was younger, Fran should sit on his lap, but Fran wouldn't give in, saying that the day he showed his back to Bel for such a long duration of time would be the day that sempai's crappy knives (stabstabstab "Ow, that hurt sempai.") would finally find their mark. The door had closed on Bossu and the shark a few minutes back, but judging by the banging and thumping noises going on in there, hidden from them behind the black window, they were probably fighting it out too.

Behind the warring frog and prince, Levi smirked to himself behind his mask of piercings.

As if his Boss would ever ride on that shark's lap!

…

Ride on him?

Levi's brow crumpled like paper trying to beat rock at the weirdly arousing image that had suddenly appeared in his mind, unaware of Lussuria at his side opening the car door, looking inside... and quickly shutting it again, blood pouring out of his nose in a torrent.

Well, reasoned the big man to himself, chewing on a lip ring thoughtfully, even if the two were together, (which they obviously weren't. He could hear Squalo's short gasps from inside the car now as it rocked back and forth. He was probably being strangled into a seat or something. (A.N./ or something… teeheehee) Xanxus would be dismembering that stupid silver-haired shark right about_… now._) it wasn't as if his Boss would ever lower himself to bottom. No way in fucking frozen over Hell.

No, it would be Squalo there, lying pinned on the bed with Xanxus' big, brown hands holding up those thin thighs, panting and writhing as Xanxus pounded deep into his body, silver hair going absolutely bloody everywhere and wailing his name loudly...

"Xanxu… Xanxus!"

Yes, like that, just like that…

Wait, what?

Levi turned back to the car with an animalistic snarl of rage at the pure thought of Xanxus with _anyone, _especially that dumb shark, snatching hold of the front door and ready to wrench it open and reveal his boss and his second to the outside light when Lussuria grabbed his outstretched hand, pulling him away into an impromptu waltz.

"Dance with me, Levi-chan!" He wheedled, pulling the mountain-of-a-man into a wide circle, moving stealthily away from the car.

Levi growled, trying to tug his arms free, but Lussuria had his arms in a grip strong enough to make even the toughest wrestler wince and refused to let him go. Next to them, Fran's exuberant hat was slowly filling up and up with knives until he resembled a big, drooping porcupine stuck on a stick, and Bel was still pulling more of the strangely wired things out of his clothing and god knows where else. Fran was begging for mercy in his usual poker-voice, which of course only made the Prince more angry.

Not that he showed it, instead opting to widen his smile further as he added more 'artistic decoration' to his kohai's body.

"Let… go… of… me… you… stupid… fag!"

Levi ground out, finally hooking one leg around Lussuria's as he span him in and out of a particularly fast arc and tripping him heavily to the ground (to which Lussuria let out a squeal of delight.) But as he turned away, the poof grabbed hold of his boot, mock-tears gathering in the corner of his eyes and dribbling out beneath the ever-present sunglasses. Sometimes Levi wondered if the man even _had_ eyes beneath them – at least, he'd never seen him without them.

"Levi-chan, where are you going? Don't just leave me here, all defenceless and rapable on the ground! I might get molested!" Levi let out a breathy snort. Defenseless the wrestler was not. The day he became 'rapable' was the day the human race found extinction, and the only person who would be doing _any _molesting anywhere near the man was Lussuria himself.

Except maybe his Boss, of course.

Levi kicked off Lussuria with a grimace, wiping the boot that the homosexual had been clinging onto so desperately not-so-surreptitiously on his trouser leg. He was wrong, of course he was. The only reason Squalo had made _that _sort of noise, that breathless, throaty, and unmistakably hot noise, was because Xanxus had punched him in the stomach, or something like that. Maybe the shark yowled out the name of everyone who winded him?

Sadly for his denial, even Levi's rather diminutive brain told him that this wasn't really likely, unless Squalo was secretly a closet masochist.

Something else told him that even if he _was_, that would only make him a better match for the sadistic Bossu who owned him…

Levi marched back towards the car, fuming, and determined to get to the bottom of this if it killed him.

Behind him, Lussuria scrambled quickly to his feet, checked around to make sure no one was looking (they weren't. Fran and Bel were still trying to quietly murder each other and Squalo and Xanxus were… otherwise occupied in the front seat. (A.N./ that's how badass Xanxus is. Most people would go in the back. He just doesn't give a shit! =D)) leapt up into the air as gracefully as a swan (albeit a wingless, ugly duckling of one) and brained the big man with his iron knee.

Levi dropped, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, the early morning sunlight briefly illuminating his large form through chinks in the trees before he hit the ground with a loud thud.

Lussuria quickly hauled him up beneath the shoulders, and proceeded to drag him off across the tarmac, back towards the diddy compound that served as an airport, waving Bel and Fran along after him. The two followed, reluctantly, Bel tugging out knives from his Kohai's head as they walked much to Fran's chagrin, who complained tonelessly as ever to the young prince.

"Aren't we meant to be setting off as soon as possible?" Whined Bel as soon as they got into the cramped building, leaning back on the small display case of various armoured weapons behind him. It appeared that this port had once been a military base- now transformed into a mafia get-away route. Lussuria nearly laughed at the irony. "Xanxus said that we should be at the brat's house as fast as we can get!" Lussuria, who had gently laid Levi out along the nearest wall, rose and stood to face the younger Italian, brushing invisible specks of dust from his neon gloves off onto his equally fluorescent leggings, boa twitching like a snake around his neck.

"Right now, I don't think Xanxus minds waiting a few more minutes. I… had a chat with him, he's okayed us having a little rest up here."

Fran wandered boredly away from Bel's side, and stood looking down over the deeply unconscious Levi with a worryingly curious look on his face.

"What happened to Levi-kun, Lussuria-san?"

"Um…" Lussuria looked around for inspiration, snapping his fingers distractingly as he did so, until his eyes finally came to rest on the contents of the glass box behind Bel.

"He … tripped." Yes, that sounded good. "On… a… landmine…?" Oh, not so much.

Fran raised a disbelieving eyebrow, and even the Ripper Prince's smile seemed to droop a little at the edges.

"Why didn't it blow up then?" He asked. Lussuria mentally facepalmed.

"Because it was… defective…" Yes, he was getting into this now. He could pull this off!

Fran crouched low over Levi's unmoving body, long fingers prodding at his head and coming away dark and sticky, normal poker-face lengthening even more.

"Why the blood then, Lussuria-san? And why the answering patch on your knee?" He pointed an accusatory red-stained finger to the offending appendage, which Lussuria instinctively wrapped the trailing end of his boa around.

_Busted!_

"Um… ah…"

"Get a move on," said Bel smoothly, polishing one of his knives on a tattered shirt sleeve and pulling it back to examine the face reflected in it through the nest of thick blonde curls. "The Prince does not have all day to listen to you stutter."

"Um…" Lussuria was sweating now, a nightmare for anyone in a bright orange shirt. He didn't want dark patches! Dark patches were _so _last season, and they would clash with his underwear and… oh, to hell with it.

"He hit his head on a rock," he told them, suddenly as dark-faced as Xanxus himself. Fran and Bel both took an automatic step back- even Lussuria was dangerous angry. "I pulled him up, he was heavier than I expected, I dropped him, he whacked his head on my knee. I bought him here so we don't drip blood all over the new car. Satisfied?"

Fran let his eyes meet where he suspected sempai's were hidden beneath all that hair, and smirked.

"Perfectly," they chimed together, and Bel pushed off his glass case to come and kneel besides Fran and Levi, pulling out a new wad of knives.

"Good." Lussuria leaned back, crossing his arms tight across his chest, and letting his mind float back to the delicious scene he had just witnessed in the front seat of the vehicle, blotting out the two annoying brats who were currently seeing how many knives they could fit in Levi's hair before they all fell out. Idiots.

/

A.N./ Warning: Don't look at the next chapter unless you like man-on-man full on smutty-galore yaoi-ish smexiness! It's an **M-Rater** half-chappie **sex scene** **extraordinaire**, so don't read if you don't like.

Originally I was planning to let you guys get to know the characters a little better before the first one, but I decided to throw one in early. Why? Because I got bored, and I wanted to write some car-sex. What other excuse do I need?

Anyway, keep reviewing, guys! Hit the big button and send the starving author some feedback!


	3. M RATER The Car

M-Rater numero uno

A.N./ Okay, so here's the first sex scene in this story! It's between (who else?) Xanxus and Squalo. Sorry to anyone who was hoping otherwise, but although it'll probably get a mention, if only because the author is such a humungous pervert, sex scenes between other characters will not be highlighted.

And, um, if you're a romantic mush-lover and you don't like hardcore yaoi, don't read this chapter. Seriously. These guys aren't in lurve, they just fuck each other whenever Xanxus feels the need. Their relationship is probably closer to a Noncon, just with lustiness from both sides (I know that doesn't really make sense…)

Generally I'd also say 'if you're a minor, keep your nose out', but I won't. If you think you can handle it, be my guest, but don't come crying to me that your eyes have melted.

If you're fine with all of that, then sit back, relax, and enjoy the slashy XS!

/

It was by far the most embarrassing and terrifying moment of the Vongola Chauffeur's life.

After all, not only did one man have a gun barrel pressed so hard against the back of his head he could practically _taste_ it, but that man was also currently quietly (bar a few appreciative grunts) screwing the life out of _another _man right beside him.

The latter really didn't seem to mind that much, for although at first the driver had taken his short screams and noisy yelps to be those of downright terror, they'd quickly turned into low, husky gasps of the larger man's name, which seemed to be Xin… Xanxi… Xan something or other. It was hard to hear as it was, especially with the strong Italian accent both men sported, but the name was definitely weird sounding, and definitely foreign. Maybe Chinese? They had a lot of Xings and Xangs, right?

But, thought the driver, nibbling on his lip, seen only through the view in the reflection on the driver's window, it was actually pretty damn hot.

The smaller man was laying tipped back and curled around the dashboard, head clonking painfully on the windscreen with every hard thrust the Xinxu man gave him and eyes squeezed tight shut, with his snowy white thighs hoisted high up around the other. His long, silvery hair flowed off the board in a waterfall of mercury, pooling on the floor at the larger male's feet. Said male was curved across the other man, one arm holding him up easily above him in what would've generally been an obvious feat of strength and pinning the smaller's hands back against the cool plastic, as the other was kept tight on the gun jammed in between the reluctant third wheel's shoulder blades.

Both of them were bare from the middle down, although they had retained their loose Varia shirts, the scarred, dark one with his trousers nesting around his ankles and the skinny albino with them lost completely to the darkness beneath the glove pocket. With the pink shadow of the die fluffing out most of their entwined bodies, it was almost bearable.

Indeed, if the driver concentrated only on the faces, mapped out clearly against the dark of the window profiling them from behind, he could half kid himself that the long-haired dude was a chick, and this was all some dirty scene from the midnight pornos he secretly stayed up to watch whilst his girlfriend had fallen into slumber, so he could go to bed dreaming about better sex than he could ever give or have.

But, once again, it was a pity about the gun.

The driver sighed, trying to ignore the heavy weight of the metal on his flesh, and shut his eyes, desperately willing down the tent that was quickly forming in his pants at each one of the vocal Italian's loud gasps.

This had _not _been in the job description when he signed up…

/

Squalo, trapped beneath Xanxus as securely as a butterfly to a corkboard, was having no more second thoughts about getting in the car with his Bossu. The tall Italian's half-lidded eyes stared into his own, unreadable as ever once the usual anger had been washed from them, but his face was set into a grimace of pure pleasure that Squalo couldn't help but return. One large, gun-calloused hand was splayed out across his bony wrist and chest, holding him down, whilst the other… occupied… the driver into not letting his curiosity overcome him beside them.

But it wasn't the _hands _that made being the Boss' bitch so enjoyable.

Definitely not.

Squalo shifted a little, using his thin calves currently over the elder's shoulders to pull Xanxus a little closer towards him. Xanxus immediately understood, and, for once, obeyed, thrusting forwards deeply and finding _that_ spot inside of him with an ease that spoke of much practice, the one that made him writhe and moan for more, even as his Boss kneaded the bruises that spread so easily across his milky skin and pulled tight knots into his beloved hair.

After all, sleeping with Xanxus meant equal parts pain and pleasure at the best, he'd learnt that a long time ago. And at the worst, when Xanxus was in a bad mood and was fucking him more because of the need to _hurt _and _maim _something precious than for any enjoyment, it meant _just_ pain, that and a whole lot of mess to clear up when he woke to an empty bed on bloodstained and shaking legs the next morning.

But, he'd sworn his life to this man, that along with his hair and body. Even if he hadn't been able to protect him from the ice of the old man or from the fire of the wimpy little Tenth who didn't dare look him in the eye until his friends were threatened, he could still try and keep his promise to the best of his ability. Even if it only meant being there, a steady constant, providing a body to punch and a tight, willing ass to be fucked whenever Xanxus felt in the mood.

In the end, if he couldn't protect Xanxus from harm, wasn't that all he could do?

/

The day that Xanxus had first tossed him to the floor of his study, shed him of his clothes and mercilessly screwed him, it had been rough, unprepared, and very painful, although of course Squalo complied with barely any punches or kicks or screams of 'Voooooiiii! What the fuck Xanxus?' thrown in. Over the years, the pain of being taken without any warning hadn't lessened any, and for certain Xanxus had never gotten any gentler, but Squalo had eventually learned that the best way to deal with Xanxus when he got into a wanting, hungry mood like this was to just lay back and… well, take it up the ass.

It wasn't that much of a bother, not really. He'd never been especially attracted to any woman, and definitely no other men besides Xanxus, not in the same way, but even with this undeniable knowledge he'd never go as far as to say that he 'loved' him. 'Love' was sweet and gentle and caring, and he doubted that Xanxus could ever do that.

Squalo also doubted that he'd still want Xanxus if he did.

Because he did want him. He did feel the lust, the need, whenever Xanxus had him like this, taking him slowly and deeply towards a steadily nearing release, that beautiful scarred face so close to his own yet still so far away. And in those precious times that, to his annoyance, he would often find his mind straying to and dwelling on late at night when there was little else to think on besides the man who often shared the expanse of bed beside him, it really did feel like something special.

Of course, other times it would hurt enough to make him scream (which admittedly wasn't that hard; Squalo had always been vocal in the bedroom) and he wouldn't be able to walk properly for absolutely-fucking-_ages_ afterwards. He would only gripe about it to the one responsible after the sun had risen though, when he was sure that Xanxus was in a stable enough mood that round two would occur. A lot of the time, round two _did _still occur, if only because Xanxus had nothing better to do and was looking to piss him off.

But sometimes, on the sadly not-so-rare occasion when Xanxus would come home so incensed about something he would blast his way straight through the walls instead of using the doors like any other half-insane Varia with twin guns ablaze, like after he'd found out the truth about his dusky heritage or when he'd heard that half of the Vongola rings had been shipped out to that dumb kid Tsuna and his Guardians, Squalo would be pretty certain Xanxus would finally crack through the thin shell of sanity he'd somehow managed to construct around his wild core and kill him. He'd come damn close plenty of times, that was for sure- pushing him so hard facedown into a pillow he nearly smothered him, shoving one of his ever faithful guns in his mouth after Squalo had sucked him off and looking _this close _to pulling the trigger.

It wouldn't be a half bad death though, Squalo supposed. A bit embarrassing, seeing as he'd been kneeling on the floor butt-naked at the time with handcuffs chaining him to the bedpost and a dildo up his ass, but he'd always expected that when he finally did get shipped down to Hell, it'd be from his Boss' hand.

And then, when Xanxus eventually got off his lazy throne and came down to join him, fiery redemption or not, everything would carry on as normal. Xanxus would kill stuff. Squalo would watch his back and kill stuff right along beside him. Xanxus would get bored and fuck him. Squalo would yell and swear loudly when Xanxus did something to purposefully annoy him. Then Xanxus would get bored and fuck him. Squalo would have glasses of liquor repeatedly thrown at his head, and get thrashed at poker because Xanxus never admitted to cheating, and never would.

And Xanxus would get bored and fuck him.

It was quite a vicious cycle in a way, but, Squalo supposed, there wasn't much more he could ask for. He didn't want some caring, mushy idiot of a boyfriend like Dino would be (not that he hadn't considered the handsome blonde a couple of times, despite whatever Xanxus thought. It was hard to concentrate when someone that gorgeous was your childhood friend.) or some overly optimistic baseball nut like Yamamoto (who had that other pale Italian boy, anyway. Gokudera, or whatever his name was.) No, he wanted fiery, ferocious Xanxus, even if that included the free package of pain that came with.

/

Xanxus finally finished himself, a scant few beats after Squalo who had wriggled his flesh-and-blood hand free of Xanxus' own to treck down and palm his own erection eagerly, whilst his stark black mechanical replacement arm traced cool spirals onto the other man's sweating back. The larger Italian came with a grunt, still buried deep within his shark's warm body, and Squalo winced at the strange perception of being filled yet again by his Bossu.

It always got him, that. Every time. No matter how often Xanxus penetrated him, he could never hold back a flinch at the feel of the hot cum dripping through the contours of his hole.

God, he was going to need a shower when he got to Tsuna's.

Xanxus let out a long heave of breath, dropping his shaggy black head down to rest heavy on Squalo's bare shoulder with a sigh, burying his handsome face in the slighter male's neck. Squalo, worn out from the romp and now also being squashed beneath the heavier body above him, pushed him gently off with a soft grunt and a grumble, sliding down the sweat-slicked curve of the dashboard into the footwell to find his missing pants and distractedly wondering how the heck he was going to explain his sticky clothes and sudden inability to walk straight to Levi the Bossu-bloodhound.

Xanxus had let out another short breath as the metal hand pulled him coldly away from the warm, pliant body he'd been nestling into, but didn't complain, for once. Strange, to think that Xanxus was more in need of the human contact at this moment than his usually more emotional, more exuberant shark.

But then, he reasoned, to Squalo (and indeed to himself at much the same extent) this was probably another mindless fuck, like the so many others he'd given the trash before. It was meaningless. Empty.

Xanxus didn't know why that bothered him so much, and nor did he care to. A quick screw was all he had wanted the attractive shark for at first, that and the fact that Squalo was the only person who had ever followed his orders so blindly, so trustingly, without looking for crack or fault. And he was probably also the only person who cared about his own life so little to be able to do so day in, day out.

Not that Squalo was suicidal, far from it. But the way he threw himself so furiously into battle at Xanxus' side often made the elder wonder if the dumb shark really cared that much if he came out the other side, as long as he died by his uncaring Boss' side.

Although this feeling was almost definitely stemmed from his own actions, especially those during the Ring Tournament, when his blatant desire to _win _and to kill all the fuckers who thought he couldn't do it had blinded him from everything else.

Laughing whenever he thought the shark had finally copped it and been killed. Frowning at how the piece of trash would always doggedly returned to his side, covered in blood, barely standing and trembling like a fine leaf, sword clattering lightly against his bionic arm and hair thick with sweat but eyes showing a determination that ran deeper than bone.

For an awkward moment, Xanxus could've sworn he felt a foreign emotion, something almost like regret dousing a little bit to close to the natural pit of flaming rage that dwelt beneath his cool exterior, but he quickly swamped it with his fire, evaporating it as instantaneously as it had appeared. He was the rightful heir to Vongola, no matter what those damn lying rings or his own bloodline said. He had the power, he had the determination, and he definitely had the hatred. And he wasn't going to let his 'feelings' for some dumb whippet-thin pretty sword-obsessed boy with a long mantle of snowy hair and an annoyingly loud voice stand in the way of it.

The mafioso sat down – more like wearily collapsed – into the leather passenger chair, cuffing the kneeling Squalo around the head as he went who was still fishing about for shoes and socks, thin silver eyebrows knitted into a dense frown. Beside them, the driver felt the gun leave his neck with a burst of desperate relief- he'd been beginning to think that Xanxus would forget his obedience and shoot him anyway, if only because now he'd spent himself within Squalo, there was nothing else to do.

He turned back to his passengers with a bright, trembling smile and started the engine as if nothing had happened, trying to ignore the way Xanxus had possessively pushed Squalo back down into the footwell when he had tried to make a bid for freedom, and rested his large feet in their shiny, mafia-shoes on the swordsman's back.

"Um, I'll go fetch the others, _si?_ We'll be off as shortly as possible!"

Xanxus gave him a brief nod and dismissed him, returning his gaze to a stewing glare out the front window. Squalo's pale eyes followed the poor man though, as he leapt up from his seat as fast as he humanely could, pushed open his door (after a brief fumble with the lock) and hightailed it out of there, as fast as it could, trying to will his bobbing erection back down before he reached the Complex.

Damn.

He was gonna have to keep his legs crossed.

/

A.N./ So. There you go. One overly long and drawn out smut scene with far too many flashbacks and angst. I was giggling evilly as I wrote this (sadistic little bitch that I am) but I'm wondering… maybe I should have swapped out some of this into the main story, so that other people could read it and find out a bit more about Xanxus and Squalo's steamy past.

Or maybe it would boil their delicate optic nerves into mush. I don't know.

Does this past-y sex stuff contribute in any way to the story? In the main thing I'll be focussing more on the here and the now for most of it, so I won't be delving into the past quite as much as I did here. Will it be ay-okay to leave the majority of the flashbacks to the sex scenes, or will it mean that the younglings only get half a story? Yay or nay?

Give me an answer! I want your opinions! So, feedback people, please.

Hope you enjoyed it, and keep your head up for the next chappie.


	4. The Forest

**The Forest**

A.N./ Wow! Thankyou for all the marvellous reviews I received for this story! (Mwah, mwah, and mwah!) They were all read and much loved. Keep up the good work, and sorry I haven't updated in a while! (Damn you, end of summer holidays! DAMN YOU TO HELLLLLLLL! I don't wanna go back to schooooolll! Noooooooooooooooooo)

Anyway, the only warning in this chapter is too many linebreaks.

/

Chapter Rating: T, for a little bit of swearing, mentions of abstract smexual adventures, and fluff between Bel and Fran and Yamamoto and Gokudera (very, very vaguely!)!

The car pulled up almost an hour later in front of the woods that led towards Tsuna's bunker, opening it's doors briefly to let six disgruntled and cramped Mafiosos plus luggage tumble out before quickly accelerating away into the distance in a cloud of shimmering dust. Xanxus, the first one out as always, had already grabbed his belongings away from Levi's desperate subservient hands and was marching swiftly off between the trees by the time his subordinates had untangled themselves from the mess, his scarred face dappled even more beneath the flickering light filtering through the arch of green above them. Levi was right behind him, snivelling away like the ugliest puppy known to man and unfortunately completely recovered from his previous ordeal at the hands of the still smirking Lussuria. Xanxus himself looked like he was struggling to decide whether to ignore him, punch him, or just go all out and shoot the damned bugger, his eyebrows knitted together into two dense commas of shadow.

It wasn't a hard choice.

"Trash," he said, coldly, flicking a wrist back to where Squalo was struggling doggedly along at the rear of the group, wincing with every painful step. "Kill him."

The shark looked up from beneath long bangs and growled. He'd forced (read: pleaded. One could not _force _the Boss of the Varia into _anything_) Xanxus to let them stop off at a service station halfway to the secret base, mostly so he could clean himself up before embarrassing himself any further but also to get away from the now fully conscious Levi. A. Than, who had been giving the smaller Italian gloomy glares of doom the whole way.

But, sadly, no amount of cold water and vigorous, sex-rumpled-hair brushing could cleanse him of the ungodly ache in his arse.

It was bad enough shuffling along under Lussuria's knowing gleeful gaze and Bel and Fran's oblivious stares, not even mentioning Levi's dark eyes that were constantly wishing him to drop dead where he stood.

And now Xanxus, the man responsible for all this suffering (although admittedly, he hadn't complained at the time) wanted him to do _more _work?

"Do it yourself, lazy bastard!" He snarled and resumed his painful trek, hoiking the heavy pack higher on his bony shoulder and determinedly ignoring Xanxus' angry reply, the wrathful set of his face, everything. The only thing that he cared about at the moment was stealing Tsuna's bathtub and relaxing there for the rest of the day.

/

(A.N./ I can't really remember that much about the outside of the bunker… so I'll make it up as I go along. Sorry for mistakes!)

The wood was dark even at this late time of the morning, the thick, leafy foliage obscuring the dense tangle of bracken and mulch below from every stray blade of light that fought to break through the barrier of trees. Wide-trunked, leafy oaks rose up on all sides, jostling for space, their roots tangling into gnarled ropes on the forest floor. These particular bits of crisscrossing barky life were what was making what should have been a simple country trek into something out of a nightmare.

"Shit!" wailed Squalo, tripping for what felt like the millionth time and landing flat on his face in a pile of leaf goo, rucksack perching on his back like some evil carnivorous spider. A few paces ahead, Fran repeated his action with a low-

"Oh no, sempai," and also crashed down, the froggy hat that usually obscured most of his head slipping back to reveal bobbed green hair. He quickly pulled it up before Bel could notice it's absence, knowing his sempai's weird attachment to the freaky fashion accessory, but his worries were misplaced: the Ripper Prince had been 'shishishi'ing so hard at both the frog and the shark's predicament that he himself had fallen foul of the same trap and become acquainted rather painfully with the floor.

Up in the lead, Xanxus heard the loud swearing and crashing behind him, and rolled his eyes skyward. Idiots.

"Come on, come on!" Squealed Lussuria, waving his hands in some fancy flourish of panic. "We have to get a move on!"

Bel picked himself up, shaking leaves out of his fluffy hair, ever present smile drooping slightly at the edges, and carried on more carefully, picking his way between roots and watching the ground through his thick blonde mop. Fran was hard on his heels, watching where his sempai trod to get the best grip he could and complaining drearily under his breath.

Squalo hauled himself to his feet with an angry 'Voii!' and set off again at a furious pace- or what would have been a furious pace, if his foot hadn't caught in the next root along and sent him tumbling back down again with a violent screech of outrage, pale face flushing brilliantly.

Xanxus ignored them all, although if one looked carefully at his craftily moulded steely expression, one might notice the slight twitch of the lips that indicated a smile at Squalo's constant stream of abuse being screeched out to the surrounding woodlands.

A month with the five idiots he reluctantly called a family and a gang of snot-nosed, naïve brats.

Joy.

Well, at least he still had his shark to amuse him.

Everyone breathed out a much-wanted sigh of relief when the large, tubular entrance to the bunker reared up before them, camo-sprayed metal blending smoothly into the backdrop of brush around it.

"Here at last," muttered Squalo, still trying to shake dirt out of his ears, and it was a statement Xanxus wholeheartedly agreed with (for once). That hot bath was looking more and more welcome every second.

/

Inside the base, a sleepy Tsuna was shovelling the usual morning cornflake ration into his mouth when the wide screen camera shot zoomed into focus on the wall, showing a group of disgruntled and familiar young men huddled on the doorstep. Lal, sitting beside him and resting her dark head heavily on the loop of her tanned arms, looked up curiously, and said something that made Tsuna drop his spoon and grab for Lambo's ears instead, her pretty face twisting into a sneer of displeasure.

"You agreed to let them come to stay? After all they did?"

Tsuna, satisfied that the worse of the tirade had passed, released the toddler's ears and plucked his spoon wetly from the table, leaving a thin trail of milk.

"I didn't exactly have a choice… you know what Xanxus is like! The letter only came through the box today- and by the time I'd rung up to try and dissuade them, they'd already left! And- anyway, if you remember it was only thanks to them defeating the Millelfiore at Vongola Central that we've gotten this far in the first place!"

Lal sighed, putting her head back between her arms moodily, although she didn't try to deny it.

"Just don't let them disturb me. I'm tired as hell."

In other words, if any of the Varia came within ten metres of her, they would find themselves with the only thing worse than ants in your pants: a huge centipede ripping apart their spine.

Reborn, perched precariously on the edge of the table opposite, turned to face Tsuna, his disproportionately sized head wobbling his tiny body dangerously towards the drop.

"Well, Tsuna? Do we let them in or not?"

Behind him, Gokudera, Ryohei and Irie took this as their cue to shake their heads and wave their hands frantically at the young reluctant future Don (Hibari simply snorting and turning away and Yamamoto smiling at the thought of seeing his silver-haired friend again), who grimaced in despairing reply. After all, he had a feeling that if Xanxus were to be denied entrance to the Vongola Base, he would simply take out those deadly guns and blast himself a _new _entrance, and probably a new exit out the other side.

Best to try and keep the chaos to the minimum- although, when it came to dealing with the Varia of all people, chaos was pretty much the norm.

Tsuna, with the worldweary exhalation of one twice his age, pressed down on the button beside his chair and spoke the damning words.

"Gioninni, let them in."

There was an answering mumble, and on the camera screens, the doors slowly swung open.

Tsuna held his breath, and waited for the fires to start.

/

Yamamoto, being the friendliest of the Guardians, was sent to greet the visitors and show them around. It had been unanimously (and silently) agreed that Tsuna would stay out of Xanxus' way as much as possible, and so he was currently skulking in the kitchen, getting in the way of the girl's dinner preparations and trying to give the impression of minding his own business whilst listening out for any explosions.

It didn't work, and, eventually, Chrome, Bianchi, and even Kyoko and Haru pushed him gently into a corner, gave him a bowl of doughy mixture to stir that they could afford to lose and asked him kindly to stay out from under their feet for the next hour or so whilst they tried to rustle up food for another six people on top of their already well-populated usual group. The young Mafioso chewed his lip but obeyed, whipping the yellowy slop into oblivion with his spoon whilst trying to distract himself from the imminent destruction that now lurked indeterminately within the corridors of his haven.

/

The doors of the bunker swung open, revealing a shiny, windowless metallic hallway trailing off into the distance and winding down into the earth, with fluttering bluish-white lights illuminating the way.

Xanxus stepped in straight away shrugging, shouldered his heavy pack once more as if it weighed no more than a feather, and marched onwards. Squalo, still griping about the crap in his hair his incessant falls had caused, followed with a grunt and the rest of the Varia trailed after them in a motley crowd of feather boas, tiaras, frog-hats and umbrellas. Yamamoto was there almost immediately, bubbling and laughing like a happy little puppy who could lighten up the dark atmosphere like a baseball-obsessed idiotic bulb, and jabbering away to Squalo about everything from sword techniques (which he listened to) and Gokudera (which he raised his eyebrows at) to the few pen marks still visible on Xanxus' cheek (which earned him a slap on the back of the head and a glower).

"Where's the bathroom?" Asked Squalo finally, putting a stop to the flow of happy words spilling out of the overly exuberant teen's mouth and pulling on a lock of his dirty white locks mournfully, crystalline eyes narrow. Cut off in the middle of his stride by his own personal tutor, Yamamoto faltered for a second before layering on the easy grin again and gesturing for them to follow him into the tunnels, the doors slamming shut heavily behind them with a clunk.

"Your rooms are at this end of the complex," he explained, pushing open one of the many submarine-esque doors that lined the tributary corridor to let them catch a glimpse of the room beyond. It looked clean and tidy, if not overly spacey, with a neat bed rather than the usual Japanese futon and a fresh pot of what looked suspiciously like daisies drooping on the drawer top. Far from the well-furnished, elaborate rooms they had owned back at the mansion, but for a last minute getaway hotel, they were more than enough.

So Squalo thought, at least.

Xanxus was not so impressed.

"You expect me to sleep in this hole?" His dark eyes flashed with sudden fire, and he rapped an angry fist against the wall beside his head. "Trash."

Yamamoto blinked, unsure.

"Um…yes?"

So totally_ not _the right thing to say to a spoilt brat of a mafia boss.

Squalo quickly latched onto Xanxus' arm and dragged him away from Yamamoto before he could pull his guns from their holsters; floor clicking beneath twin pairs of steel-capped booted feet.

"We'll check out the other rooms, okay, Yamamoto? Thanks." And then, under his breath to his boss- "Try and be a little more grateful, will you? They've only had a day to put this together for us, thanks for your 'planning'!"

Xanxus's red orbs thinned and shook him off with a growl, taking hold of a fistful of soft silver hair to give it a painful yank. The swordsman yelped in a mixture of pain and surprise, quickly backing away out of his personal bubble once again.

"Don't tell ME what to do, trash!"

Lussuria frowned slightly, hugging his pink boa tight. It looked like things had gone back to normal between the pair once again, all memories of what had happened in the Vongola car forgotten. Oh well. His dreams would still be good tonight… very, _very _good. God, he was getting a nosebleed just thinking of it!

Xanxus pushing down the albino swordsman onto the dashboard and crawling up over him with their arms and tongues entwined like snakes, one tan hand creeping lower to the buckle of his belt where a tent was already vividly forming in his tight trousers…

Lussuria ducked into the nearest room, trying to stem the heavy splatter of blood flying from his nostrils and embrace the delicious image hovering in the forefront of his mind at the same time- a rather fruitless exercise.

Life. Was. Good.

Bel vanished into the next brightly illuminated lair along, looking sadistic and pulling a dazed-looking frog after him with a long trailing Shishishi that remained hovering in the hallway after the door had been slammed home and made the hairs stand up on the back of Squalo's neck. Yamamoto, still standing dumbly at the end of the corridor, blinked a few more times. God, the Varia were _weird._

No changes there then, he supposed.

"You can count those two out for dinner," Xanxus informed him, unceremoniously booting a dawdling Levi who was trying to hang onto his trouser leg through the still closed door to his left with a crunch of wood splinters and a scream from the larger Italian. The teen wasn't sure whether to laugh or run, eyebrows working their way up into his high hairline in shock. "So give me their portions of meat."

Yamamoto nodded, noting the request, and hurriedly excused himself, head whirling as he bowed to the two mafia remaining in the narrow hallway. "Make yourselves at home then, Xanxus-sama, Squalo-sensei! Yell if you need anything!"

They'd been careful to place the Varia as far away from the rest of them as possible, so as not to cause unnecessary confrontations, but Yamamoto, knowing the silver-haired swordsman like he did, was pretty damn certain that he'd still be able to hear Squalo's voice from anywhere in the Base. And with that, he left, scuttling back to the familiar tunnels where the Vongola usually inhabited and hoping the Varia didn't wreck the place _too _much. It may have taken a while to get used to, but now Yamamoto and every guardian with him looked at the underground secret bunker as their home.

/

"Wow, so they actually went into their rooms without a fuss!" Tsuna remarked once Yamamoto had made his way back to the main compartment unscathed and smiling. "That's good, for them, I guess."

"Well, not much of a fuss," The dark haired baseball player admitted, thinking back to Levi's huge form crunching through wood and plaster like it was paper. It had been ten whole years since they'd fought the Varia, but they definitely hadn't laid off the training any- especially if their victory over the Millelfiore was anything to go by. No, they were stronger- and more unpredictable- than ever, and Yamamoto wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad.

"I still think we should never have let them come," grumbled Gokudera from the door, and Yamamoto looked up towards him, eyes shining as he appraised the pale, grey-haired explosives expert before him.

"Gokudera!"

"Yo. Bianchi's sent me to give out the dinner call- it'll be ready in half an hour, she reckons. And I'd advise you to warn the newcomers not to eat anything she cooks before they give themselves food poisoning and become even less use than they are already!"

"Yeah… about that dinner…"

Remembering Xanxus' threatening words, Yamamoto stepped forwards to loop an easy arm around the Italian boy's shoulders in a well-practiced motion, and steered him back towards the kitchen.

"It might be a good idea to lay off the veg on Xanxus' plate…"

/

A.N./ So? Did you like it? This chapter was written rather hurriedly, so it's probably got a shitload of crap piled up in it's midst. If it's really, really bad, I'll go over it later, but for now I'm just struggling to shove up as much as possible before Work Experience starts…

Don't dine for free- leave a review and tell me what you think! They are much loved and appreciated as ever. Feed the hungry Authoress!

And, um, a word of warning, the next chapter will probably be another **M-Rater**. I'm basically cramming in as much sex as I can. Why? Because I want to!


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